Down Time
by GloriousBright
Summary: I have completely revised this story, since I was unhappy with it. It promises to be a long series. R+R
1. One

_AN: I do not own Gundam Wing. Ideas for any original or passing characters mostly come from other works (either literary or otherwise). _

_I am revising the first few chapters that I had written, since I felt that they could have been better. I would appreciate commentaries and critiques. Thank you._

"Careful! Watch it now."

  The medics rolled the gurney from the van and down the hall. Having already administered some painkillers on the way, along with a good amount of shock from the initial pain, their patient was in no condition to protest even if they had been anything but careful. One of the nurses was actually rather disturbed by the patient's extreme stillness. Eyeing the spread of blood on his chest, she was pessimistic about his condition. As she thought this, a pair of drugged, green eyes looked up at her from where the head they belonged to was being restrained on the gurney. The eyes closed again before she could react to them. Nurse Hancock turned to one of the other orderlies walking in the opposite direction and had him take her place. She had seen all sorts of injuries working where she did but she knew she felt that she would be helpless while witnessing the possible death of one so young and beautiful. The doctors would do their best, though. Instead, she hailed the two young men who were following right behind the gurney. Someone would have to start up a chart on the patient, and she had decided to perform the task. One that would have a better chance of success, she thought.

 "Excuse me, sirs. Would you mind following me and answering some questions?" Though stated in the form of a request, Nurse Hancock turned toward the medical area's nurses' station before either of them had a chance to respond. After moving behind the high counter that was her domain, she looked up into their faces and suddenly wished she had stuck with the gurney instead. Even after her many years of experience, those hard stares had the ability of making her wish she could hide behind the counter. Instead, she settled for merely wilting.

 "Y-your names?"

 "Heero Yuy."

 "Chang Wu-fei"

Wu-fei let out an annoyed sigh as he and Heero left the nurses' station, leaving behind a flustered Nurse Hancock. "If that's the sort of person the Preventors hire for the med team, Barton doesn't have a chance."

"You trust Sally. She's on the med team."

"She's had a lot of field experience in the war." 

Heero's eyes, though a stormy shade of blue, were as calm as the eye of a hurricane. His face was expressionless, but the close observer would note that his eyebrows were ever so slightly stitched together. Inside his head, thoughts and images were whirling at a chaotic pace. So much had happened since that morning, and a brief glance at the clock on a nearby wall showed that it was not yet noon. During the war in which they had all met, his thoughts had always been clear and his calculations, cold. But things had changed, including himself, and now the simplest path was at times obstructed by feelings and emotions he had finally allowed himself to feel. Heero accepted that everyone dies. It was a fact of life he was well familiar with. But he didn't like the idea of losing one of his first real friends ever, even if he would never admit to it aloud.  

They had been making their way to the part of the med area where they knew the critically injured were always taken and paused. Doctors and nurses in scrubs where walking in and out of swinging doors, some carrying equipment or charts. Since this was not a public facility, there was no way to view what was happening to the patients inside. Though neither would admit it to the other, the former gundam pilots felt like lost boys.

"Heero! Wu-fei! I was told I could find you two in here."

The said Preventors looked up as Sally Po walked into the conference room they had commandeered to wait in while Trowa was being attended. Realizing that they were going to be of no use to the med team, they had decided against returning to their room in the dormitory area of the Preventor's HQ and had informed the head nurse to give them whatever updates as they came in. They were also waiting for Lady Une to come and debrief them on how the mission had gone.

"Well?" 

Sally would normally have had a pert reply to Heero's terseness, but under the circumstances, she remained somber.

"He's not doing too well at the moment. He lost a lot of blood before he got here," she glanced at their blood stained clothes before continuing. "I'll spare you the details, but he has a broken arm, multiple broken ribs which led to internal wounding, a broken leg, and the bullet wounds that the two of you would know of. Oh, and he seems to have a fever?" She looked questionably at the boys on that point.

Wu-fei filled her in, "He was coming down with something, we think."

Moving to take a seat at the table, she continued to look at them as she asked why he had gone on the mission if he had been sick.

"He said he felt fine."

"You know better than that, Heero." Sally knew these young men to be hard, but also knew that they would not pull stupid stunts. Then again, they were known to take extreme measures.

"He agreed to the mission during the briefing this morning. He said he was fine and was rather firm about not staying behind," Heero filled in.

"If he insisted he was fine, why do you say that he was coming down with something?"

"He didn't go through his morning workout routine." The way Heero said it, Sally felt as though this should be the biggest tip off in the world that something was wrong. She was one of the strongest believers in the abilities of these boys, but sometimes they were beyond even her own understanding. She shook her head to herself but composed herself as Wu-fei asked a question.

"How long before he's better?"

"The doctors are currently working to stabilize him now, but from there we'll just have to wait and see."

That didn't sound too hopeful coming from the woman who had worked against tight odds with the greatest of confidence. Sally sighed.

"We were wondering if we should inform his- sister, I believe it is. In case. You two have met her, correct? What do you think?"

At the mention of Catherine Bloom, Wu-fei's eyes darted to Heero. He had personally only spent a short amount of time at the circus with Trowa, but Heero had spent longer recovering under their care after he had self-destructed Wing. The woman was rather formidable, especially when it came to Trowa's safety. Heero's face darkened slightly before he raised his eyes to meet Wu-fei's. 

"Well?" Wu-fei asked as Heero met his look.

"There's no need to worry her unnecessarily."

"Unnecessarily? Heero, this isn't like he'll be out of here any time soon." Sally did not understand what the young man was thinking. A sister would want to know if her brother was in danger, wouldn't she?

"She's easily excited, and doesn't really care much for the fact that he works for the Preventors as it is. She'd take the news better from someone she knew she could trust."

"Like?"

"Quatre."


	2. Two

_Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing, nor any of the many Gundam series, and thus do not receive money for this. _

_There are some characters introduced in this chapter that are not from the Gundam Wing series. I would not call them OCs (Original Characters) since the concepts behind them are taken from books and movies/shows I have read or seen over the years. If you think you recognize the character, chances are you're right. I have changed the names. This is a Gundam Wing fanfic afterall_.

From the top of the high-rise, a partial spread of the colony was clearly visible. On the streets below, people were going about their day-to-day lives, completely unaware that they were being observed from a distance that reduced them to the size of ants. Quatre let out a sigh as he leaned forward and rested his forehead against the large paned window. Staring down at the people below, he wondered about what they were doing. Who was rushing to do errands in their lunch-break. What mothers were coaxing their children to enter just one more store before returning home. What the truck driver thought as he made his through traffic. If the people down there ever wondered what was going on up here. It was an amusing set of thoughts that helped him relax and temporarily forget about his own life. 

He didn't bother to stifle the yawn that stretched his jaw to its limits. He figured that there was no one to notice. He silently berated himself for it; he'd actually gotten a rather decent amount of sleep last night. He'd at least made it home to his bed. As he had taken over more and more of Winner Enterprises, leaving his role as a figurehead behind, he had taken on more and more of the workload his sisters had once divided. During the period following his father's death, the sisters had made sure that business had continued as usual. His sister Darcy had headed the campaign in ensuring the survival of the family business after the loss of its former master, refusing to let its reputation fail. Some sisters would comment behind closed doors that Darcy had ambitions of taking over the position of president, and removing Quatre from the scene. It having been tacitly agreed by all the sisters that they were to continue business as usual in order to hand Winner Enterprise over to Quatre as their father had intended, this sort of talk implied the scandalous. Quatre, for his own part, had greatly appreciated his sisters aid, and was particularly aware of Darcy, first as a rival and then as a comrade. Ambition was clearly read on the face of that sister, but so was the intelligence to figure out that they would do the business greater good by working together, rather than by working apart. Alone, Darcy had managed to maintain the business' status quo. After Quatre took over his position, Winner Enterprise was making progress at a rate un-matched in years. Refusing to let this sister's efforts go unacknowledged, he had made a motion to have her be the new vice president. But, they were still only mortal, and they did have physical limits. 

His days were generally quite busy, being filled with meeting, upon meeting, upon meeting. He really did envy Darcy, at times. As vice president, her job dealt with more of the practical matter of the business while he was stuck mired in the politics most of the times. He also got lengthy contracts to read, like the one currently sitting untouched on his desk. It was from an equipment supplier, which would normally fall under the vice president's authority, but due to a change in policy by the supplier, he wanted to understand the changes and try to decipher the cause behind them, and if the cause could have any effect on Winner Enterprises. 

Today, had been decidedly harder than most. The cause being that he had not been feeling well since mid-morning. The day had started out like any other. He had woken up early, even after hitting the snooze on his alarm multiple times, and had a light breakfast while reviewing his schedule for the day. He'd arrived at the new offices of Winner Enterprises to find a puffy-eyed Darcy, who had apparently spent the night at the office after crashing on the couch in her office in the vicinity of four a.m. After ordering a protesting vice president home to get some sleep, the president had proceeded to make his way through the first third of his day, commonly referred to as morning. The first hour was spent contemplating the summary of the various status reports that had been sent from the office of the vice president along with commentary and suggestions made by said vice president. He was making notes in the margins when at ten o'clock his first appointment for the day arrived, or, to be precise, was finally let in. 

The secretary to the president of Winner Enterprises also happened to be the niece of the president. She was the eldest of what would have been the former Master Winner's brood of grandchildren, and subsequently was not that much younger than Quatre himself. Not wishing to displease the mother, Quatre had promised to give Clarice Winner Renault a trial run as his secretary. She had a few rough edges, but was superb secretary nonetheless. What truly made her stand out was her awareness of the power she had as the secretary to the president of Winner Enterprise. She was generally quite responsible, but she did like to imply to the people confronting her that if she so pleased, they might not get the appointment they so highly desired, or ever have their call transferred. It was a power that very few gave thought to, except perhaps the egoistic secretary, but a power nonetheless. Quatre was quite aware of this power, and listed it under Clarice's flaws. He was quite capable of scheduling his own naps, and a meeting with a client was more important than if he got a few minutes of sleep. There was one thing to be said about the girl, though. She managed to keep his schedule running smoothly, and had no qualms about interrupting a meeting that was running over into the time allotted for the next appointment, if she gleaned that it was important. This also meant that if someone arrived early for a meeting, like Quatre's ten o'clock appointment arriving at nine-twenty, she would not let them in until their appointed time, even if Quatre were free. Yes, the girl definitely had some rough edges. 

The ten o'clock meeting had been with the shifty representative of the equipment supplier that had had a change in policy. After spending three minutes with the man, Quatre was glad that Clarice had kept him waiting for the past forty minutes. A sense of boyish mischief managed to outweigh his subsequent sense of guilt for that thought. There was something about the man that did not sit well with him. What Quatre picked up from the man was a sense of something so unclean that Quatre had immediately fought down his Empathy, and focused on the dry facts of the matter. The meeting had ended abruptly when Quatre suddenly noticed Clarice kneeling beside him with an anxious look on her face. It took him a moment to recall the past minute, or so. In retrospect, he remembered tumbling from the chair behind his desk to the floor after having experienced- what was it? It had been pain, but he wasn't physically hurt. He'd been perfectly fine until that moment, so he could not be sick. So, what was it then? He had been busy mulling this over in his head as Clarice herded him towards the couch while ordering the supplier's representative to leave whatever documents he had for Quatre on his desk and to kindly vacate the premises. She had not bothered offering to reschedule the appointment for another time. 

"What's wrong?" had been Clarice's simple inquiry, but when Quatre failed to come up with an answer, she immediately went about the process of canceling his appointments for the rest of the day. He had strongly protested as she canceled his mid-morning meeting with a client. After making a failed attempt at grabbing her appointment book, he finally managed to waylay her actions. Or, at least to reach a compromise. "If I'm not feeling better by the time lunch-time is over," he had offered, "you're welcome to cancel the rest of the day."

"Very well." Clarice left him to lie on the couch while she wrote up the cancellation list for if Quatre did not feel better. 

That had been two hours ago. Quatre blew at the bangs hanging in front of his face, temporarily shifting his focus from the street below to the lifted strands of hair. He was, in a sense, feeling much better than he had initially felt. The sickening pain had subsided to a vague memory, or as if the awareness of it had moved to the back of his mind. That fact was currently making him feel uneasy to the point of feeling sick. That he was not physically incapacitated in any way was obvious. The only explanation for such an occurrence could only be attributed to his Empathy, which didn't make sense. He had dampened it when his meeting with the supplier's representative had begun. Was there a connection to that unclean feeling he'd gotten from the man earlier? That argument didn't follow through. What he had felt had been like an explosion, as huge as it was sudden. And he had recognized it, as well. Only, he hadn't sensed anything like it since he had fought in Sandrock. 

He squeezed his eyes shut. "That's what worries me."

 "Winner Enterprises. Master Winner's office. How may I assist you?" Miss Renault answered the phone call, like she had answered any of the other numerous phone calls Quatre received on a daily basis. Cool and to the point. 

"I need to talk with Win- _Master Winner." The voice on the other side was also cool and to the point._

"Who may I inquire is calling?" Noticing a strange quality to the voice, inclusive with an overall lack of respect, Miss Renault immediately began categorizing the caller. Namely, in the "do not patch through" category.

"Chang Wu-fei"

"Yes?"

"Yes, what?"

"Are you with a client, a supplier, a union, or belonging to any other group that would have an interest in speaking with Master Winner?" She made a note to talk to the central operator about screening the calls better before transferring them to her. 

"Let me talk to Winner." The voice was noticeably getting angry.

"Sir, may I enquire as to your reason for calling this office, today?" 

"Personal."

Seeing as how Quatre was currently unoccupied, Clarice would normally have put the caller on hold while she informed him of who the caller was and whether he wished to speak to them, or not. But, as matters stood, Quatre was unwell and his tone of voice suggested trouble, if not a successful prank caller. She really did need to talk to that operator.

"Sir, I am afraid that Master Winner is currently indisposed, and so cannot accept any calls at this time. If you would like to leave a message, I shall inform Master Winner of it at the soonest possible time."

"Doesn't he have voice mail?"

"Master Winner is a very busy man and does not have time to deal with every triviality that is sent to him," she said firmly, as she would to a child.

A contemptuous "Hn" was all she heard before hearing the click informing her that the other party had hung up.  Looking down at her watch, she noted that Quatre still had half an hour left before the verdict was taken on his health. She thus decided to pay a visit to the vice president, who had arrived at noon, to confer with her about how the afternoon meetings could be juggled if Quatre did indeed need to cancel.

Pushing off the windowpane with one hand the nineteen-year-old owner of Winner Enterprises turned to face his office. It was spacious and light, thanks to the large windowpanes. Near the window and facing the door on the opposite wall was his desk. Opposite the desk were two armchairs for whoever needed to speak to him. In the far corner, along the same wall as the door, was a couch with a coffee table. It was meant to give an appearance of coziness for clients and such. It was really meant to double as a place to crash on when he had stayed in the office too late. On the perpendicular wall to that one was another door. This one led to the full bathroom and spare clothes closet, for those occasions when the couch was used. Along these two wall were two framed portraits. One was of his father and the other one was of the two of them, from when Quatre was a child. Being a corner office, two walls were glass. 

The best thing about the office, though, was that it had never been his father's. Once Winner Enterprises began making the progress he and Darcy had initiated, they had moved the central offices to a new building. He had been one of the main advocates of the move. He privately admitted that it was selfish of him, but he could not have worked in his father's old office. The only times he had ever been in there prior to becoming president were when his father was in. The short time he had worked in the former office, he felt like an intruder sitting behind his father's desk and kept looking up, expecting to see the man he would never see again. 

The dark cherry desk was still the same, but everything else was different. He currently contemplated the desk. He then contemplated the couch. Glancing at his watch he noticed that he had twenty minutes before Clarice returned for the final decision regarding his health. The simple movement of walking towards the couch felt so satisfying. The thought of lying down again after so short an interlude was a very nice thought. He had the smile of a student who was debating over how important it was to attend classes. He plopped down on the couch, turned over onto his side so that he was facing the back of the couch, and was out in less that a minute.

_Brrp__. Brrp._

A moan. An arm reaches for the alarm clock.

_Brrp__. Brrp._

A groan. An arm frantically searched for the alarm clock.

_Thud_

"Oww…"

_Brrp__. Brrp._

"Huh? Alarm? Where?" Hand reaches into his suit's coat inner pocket, procuring a ringing mobile phone. "Hell."

_Brr__-_

"Hello? Winner speaking," mumbled a sleepy voice.

"Quatre."

Confusion. "Uh. Ah. Heero?"

"Hn."

"Why are you calling me on my mobile? You could have called my office." 

"Wu-fei already tried that. Your secretary wouldn't let him through."

"Oh."

"Trowa was hurt in a mission today, and is currently in bad shape. Sally was wondering if Catherine should be called, but we figured that she'd take the news better from you."

"Oh." 

That certainly woke him up. He numbly thought about how Heero really needed to work on using transition sentences.

"Okay."

He calmly wondered at his level of calmness. He eventually came to the conclusion that he was in shock. Okay, that's reasonable, he thought.

"Quatre?"

"Yes, Heero?" Quatre had often wondered at how Heero had managed to make a monotone sound so intense. He decided to wonder about it some more. 

"Should we expect you to talk to her?"

"Oh, I should imagine so." He wondered about the last time they had all seen each other together. Was it right after the Maremeia incident? He'd need to look into that. "What should I tell Cathy?"

"Just tell her that he's been hurt. Sally, or one of the other medics here, will give her the details."  After hanging up with Heero, he thought over the brief conversation. Trowa. 

That would explain his whole morning to him. He knew that in a moment he would be rushing, making arrangements to go down to Earth, but for the moment, Quatre remained sitting on the floor of his office, stunned.

_AN- A little shorter than I intended.__ I thought to write more in this chapter, but will move it on to another chapter. I figured this one took me long enough to get up here. As for Darcy, if you ever read Ayn Rand, you might think of her character Dagny. Dagny is the model for Darcy, and so I make no claim to whatever ideas or characters she may represent._


End file.
